Delusions
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Voldemort deluded himself into thinking that he was too strong to be affected by a love potion. How wrong he was... Usual disclaimers apply. A challenge fic, so no flaming for lack of realism! OOC and non-canon. Mild slash.
1. Love Consumed

"Love Consumed"

Who was Voldemort kidding, really? Himself? Definitely. His followers? Possibly. The sane people?

Not bloody likely.

Lord Voldemort was so convinced of his strength that he determined to do something very foolish. Professor Dumbledore had so many times stressed that love was the most important thing of all. Therefore, it was a love potion that Voldemort chose to consume, convinced that he was too powerful to be affected by it.

Particularly as he insisted that Harry Potter be the intended mark of his 'affections'.

"My lord," Professor Snape said. He couldn't help but feel hesitant. Ah well. At least if the potion killed the Dark Lord, he could _finally_ be with Hermione; at least, after she graduated in a few weeks' time.

Of course, if Voldemort really did prove to be resistant, that would cause problems.

"What issss it, Sseveruss?"

"I merely offer the chance for me to brew an antidote, should something untoward happen."

"You brewed the love potion, Sseveruss. You added Potter'ssss hair. I sssupervised the processss myssself. Do you doubt my ssstrength?"

"Of course not, my lord. Forgive me."

"Later. For now, the potion." He smiled wickedly as he drank down the love potion.

Immediately, changes took effect. For one thing, he grew an actual nose. For another, his eyes turned from red to brown. He grew a light layer of dark hair. Finally, his nails became normal.

And yet, there was something about his carriage that still screamed 'Obey me, or else!', with added charisma from his improved looks.

Once he had snapped out of the potion-induced dream-world, Voldemort smiled around at his followers.

"I must find him at once," he said. "To Hogsmeade! We'll surprise him there. The students will be there today. Find him, and bring him to me."

As Voldemort and the Death Eaters Apparated away, Professor Snape ran to the fireplace, and flooed through to Hogwarts quick smart, anxious to report the impending battle.

* * *

"Harry? Where are you?" Voldemort called, looking all around him where he had appeared in the wizarding village. He saw his followers in their intimidating garb, and clucked his tongue. That would never do. He didn't want to _scare_ the boy. Only hug him, and kiss him, and… He shivered. What delicious thoughts!

He jumped when the Death Eaters started firing off hexes. Wide-eyed, he tried to put a stop to it, telling them to back down; but they were busy wreaking havoc already. Just then, he spied his beloved running out of the Three Broomsticks, and ran to him, elated at the sight. It made his heart ache when Harry drew his wand, but it didn't slow him down much. Only a little. Instead, he gave him a lovesick look.

"There's the boy! Where is your wand, master?" Bellatrix shouted. "Expelliarmus!"

Harry's wand flew from his hand, and Ron immediately fired a hex back while Hermione Summoned the rest of Dumbledore's Army. Voldemort frowned.

"No! He is mine," he said, standing in front of a bewildered Harry. "You leave him alone. All of you, stop fighting!"

Some were too far away to hear, and he shot some quick curses at them, watching with no little satisfaction as they fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Don't tell me the potion actually worked," he heard someone say. Ah, it was little Hermione Granger, with the bushy hair. Hmm. He knew quite a bit about her, and how smart she was. She would make an excellent mate for Severus; just as Harry would make an excellent mate for him.

"It can't have done," Harry said, scratching his head with the end of his wand, now retrieved from the ground. "He hates me."

"Me? I could never hate you, Harry," Voldemort said, looking hurt. He reached out a hand, and stroked the boy's cheek. "No. Never you." He gave him a hopeful smile, but again felt a pang in his chest as Harry's expression went from horror to disgust… to humour.

"This is brilliant," he said, looking between Ron and Hermione. "He won't try to kill us anymore."

"Kill you? Why would I do a thing like that? I _love_ you, Harry."

"Kill him while he's weak!" It was Bellatrix again. She threw a spell at Harry, but Ron blocked it. Voldemort turned and killed her on the spot, and the battle resumed; only this time, the leader of the Dark now fought for the Light.

By the time the fighting stopped, only one person was seriously injured, and that was Harry. He kept hopping about like a mad thing, defending everyone that he could (except Voldemort), and taking so many hexes that one Stinging Hex tipped him over the edge, into the cold blackness of unconsciousness.

The last thing he heard was, "Harry! Wake up, please! Harry…"

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This is for the Give Voldemort a Love Potion Challenge. I was just incredibly enticed by the idea. Merlin knows why. Anyway, it sounded like a lark. I just wonder how funny it may turn out. Or will it turn out angst-y? Perhaps a bit of both?

**Either way, I hope to see you at the end! Please review.**

**Oh, and this will obviously be non-canon and completely out of character. This is a warning for those serial flamers who read and review the stories they should know that they won't like, and do it just because they've probably never written a word, and like to put down other people.**

**That's all I'm going to say on the subject.**

**(For now…)**


	2. Recovery

"Recovery"

"_Kill you? Why would I do a thing like that? I love you, Harry."_

"_Kill him while he's weak!" It was Bellatrix again. She threw a spell at Harry, but Ron blocked it. Voldemort turned and killed her on the spot, and the battle resumed; only this time, the leader of the Dark now fought for the Light._

_By the time the fighting stopped, only one person was seriously injured, and that was Harry. He kept hopping about like a mad thing, defending everyone that he could (except Voldemort), and taking so many hexes that one Stinging Hex tipped him over the edge, into the cold blackness of unconsciousness._

_The last thing he heard was, "Harry! Wake up, please! Harry…"_

Voldemort took Harry to the infirmary. He had killed some of his own followers, and had defended Harry and his friends. When he swooped down on the unconscious boy and picked him up, no one could stop him; they were too shocked to do anything about it. Professor Snape followed him, supporting Hermione as she hobbled on an injured ankle. Truth was, he could have healed it, but he liked the thought of holding her against him. And since she didn't call him on it, he wasn't about to say anything.

"You should leave here, my lord," Professor Snape said as they got to the infirmary.

"Why, Severus?"

"Because of the shock you will cause."

"Ow!" Hermione cried, stumbling. Her professor swept her into his arms. She held onto him, smiling gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

"You are quite welcome, Miss Granger." She blushed, and Voldemort thought again how well they suited each other.

Harry stirred in his arms, and he sped up his steps until they reached the hospital wing. He used wandless magic to open the doors, and Professor Snape followed him through.

Madame Pomfrey gasped when she saw the strange quartet. She was too busy setting up for casualties to reach for her wand, but she stiffened.

"It is all right, Poppy," Professor Snape said, placing Hermione on a bed. He withdrew his hands slower than necessary, causing the student's blush to deepen. He straightened, and looked across the room to Voldemort, who was stroking Harry's cheek. "It is difficult to explain, though."

The minor injuries were dealt with; and all the while, Voldemort never left Harry's side. Even under threat of being hexed, he refused to leave. Whenever he looked at The-Boy-Who-Lived, his face took on a sickeningly sweet smile, his eyes gentle. He was constantly touching him, whether it was holding his hand, examining his injuries, or touching his hair.

Due to the number of injuries he had sustained, Harry was in a magical coma. It would take awhile for him to come out of it, even with all of the potions that Professor Snape was making. He made these, of course, with Hermione's help.

"Come away from him, Tom," Dumbledore said gently, placing a hand on Voldemort's shoulder. The former Dark Lord shrugged it off.

"I must stay with him," he said.

"It is quite unnecessary…"

"I. Want. To. Stay. With. Him."

The headmaster sighed. "Very well, Tom. But do not forget to eat."

Voldemort nodded. Dumbledore left the room, nodding at Madame Pomfrey on the way out. She raised an eyebrow, and went back to work. She kept looking at Voldemort. He was becoming a permanent fixture in the infirmary. Every day since the battle that he had inadvertently started, he had stayed by Harry's bedside. He never even left when he had to be healed himself.

"It's all right, Harry," he whispered. "I won't leave you. I'll _never _leave you."

* * *

Two days later, Harry woke up. Voldemort was dozing, head on arms, arms on bed.

"Wha… Get off!" Harry said.

Lord Voldemort shouted as he fell backwards and off the chair. He winced as he hit his head, but scrabbled to his feet.

"You're awake," he said. "Oh, thank Merlin. Madame Pomfrey, he's awake!" he shouted, and the medi-witch ran out of her office.

"Ah," she said, bustling over. "Hello, Mr. Potter. Pleased to see you back with us."

"What's _he_ doing here?" he asked, tilting his head at Voldemort.

"He has been watching you," Madame Pomfrey said. "Sit up straight, please."

"I'm so relieved that you're all right," he said, touching Harry's shoulder.

"Get away from me!" he yelled. Voldemort froze, and then moved back.

"Harry…"

"Leave!"

He opened and closed his mouth, tears forming. He looked at the floor, his hands clasped together, and spoke in a whisper.

"As… as you wish."

He turned away, slowly, drawing an unsteady breath, and made his way from the room. As soon as the doors closed behind him, he fell to his knees. Head in his hands, he wept.

And this was how Albus Dumbledore found him when he came to visit.

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Oh, poor Voldykins. Life's so unfair for a former Dark Lord, isn't it?

**Review, please!**


	3. The Ethics of Love Potions

"The Ethics of Love Potions"

"_Get away from me!" he yelled. Voldemort froze, and then moved back._

"_Harry…"_

"_Leave!"_

_He opened and closed his mouth, tears forming. He looked at the floor, his hands clasped together, and spoke in a whisper._

"_As… as you wish."_

_He turned away, slowly, drawing an unsteady breath, and made his way from the room. As soon as the doors closed behind him, he fell to his knees. Head in his hands, he wept._

_And this was how Albus Dumbledore found him when he came to visit._

Now, Severus Snape was in a quandary. One thing that all potions masters learned was that love potions are unethical. In fact, every student of potions knew that, although that didn't stop some from using them.

In other words, he really should have given Lord Voldemort the antidote. But if he did, what would happen? The Dark Lord would be back, right inside Hogwarts, with direct access to Potter. _Especially_ if he continued to pretend to love the boy, just to get close to him. He knew this; everybody knew this. So, at their insistence, he didn't make an antidote to the potion.

What he _didn't_ tell them, however, was that the potion would eventually wear off… when the object of the infatuation reciprocated with genuine feelings. I.e., if Potter fell in love with Voldemort.

"As though that would ever happen," he muttered. He glanced across the Great Hall to Hermione, where she was eating breakfast. Gods, but she looked beautiful with that quill holding together the bun of that unruly hair. He wondered what her mane would look like draped across his legs as she…

He blushed, and drank his pumpkin juice with unsteady hands.

* * *

"Tell me what happened, Tom," Dumbledore said, sitting across from him. The last time they were in this position, the Defence Against the Dark Arts job ended up cursed.

Circumstances had changed drastically.

"He… he hates me."

"That was expected…"

"Not by me, it wasn't! I'm in love with him, and he… he just rejects me… hates me… can't even bear the sight of me… Am I that ugly?"

"Tom, you look fine. Much better than you used to."

"Oh. Thank you, headmaster." He sniffled, and Dumbledore passed him a tissue. "He'll never want me, will he?"

"You _did_ murder his parents."

"Yes. I've remembered all of it." Voldemort blanched. During Harry's recovery, he had been thinking. About twenty-four hours after the battle, his mind had cleared so that he could remember every horrid thing he had done. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself. "The only thing holding me back from killing myself is that I love him. Love is the only thing worth living for. I want to make amends, but there's nothing I can do."

"You gave us enough information to put your faithful followers away, and you have agreed to stand trial once Harry is well enough. I rather enjoyed giving that piece of information to the Wizengamot." He chuckled, but Voldemort remained unamused. The headmaster sighed. "I cannot help you, Tom. I doubt that Harry can ever love you, simply because of who you were. Unfortunately, he is just as unforgiving as his mother was."

"But he's perfect!" Voldemort was sure of this. "Absolutely perfect. He's my Harry." Then he paused. "But… he's not mine. And he never will be." His breathing quickened, and he gripped the arms of the chair. "I can't take it. It… it hurts. _Here_." He thumped his chest, right over his heart. "How can people bear this ache? I never wanted it." He stood. "And now… and now…"

"You love someone beyond your reach." Voldemort nodded. "Perhaps I am wrong. But even if Harry did love you back, you will no doubt suffer a terrible punishment for your past crimes, causing him heartache instead. Most likely death or the Dementor's Kiss."

He shuddered. "And I would deserve whatever they throw at me."

"But even _you _deserve _love_, if you can find it," Dumbledore said. The one delusion Voldemort was still clinging to was that it was real love, not potion-induced love. No sense in disillusioning him. Not yet.

* * *

Harry looked around the hospital wing. Even with Madame Pomfrey fussing over him, it felt empty. There had been some comfort before, while he was asleep. How many days had it been? Hell, how many weeks?

Well, however long it was, he'd felt safe. A voice had spoken to him regularly. He couldn't remember what it sounded like, or even what it had said; but it had been there sure enough, keeping him warm.

"So why was he _really_ here?" he asked.

"The love potion worked. You knew that, didn't you?"

"Yes. But why hasn't it… you know, stopped? I mean, hasn't someone given him an antidote?"

"Mr. Potter, can't you see why that would be foolish? Once he is in Azkaban, perhaps. If he goes there. It's near to over-flowing at the moment."

"There weren't _that_ many at the battle, Madame Pomfrey."

"No, but You-Know-Who gave information on the whereabouts of the rest of his Death Eaters. Minus the few who fought for the Light, either during the war or at the end, they're all imprisoned at that horrible place." She shivered.

"Yeah." Harry frowned. "He's _really_ in love with me?"

"Yes. Didn't you see just how worried he was?"

Harry nodded slowly. He also remembered how hurt Voldemort looked when he was told to leave. His eyes had been glistening, but Harry had looked away before he could see any more.

He knew what it was like to feel that no one in the world cared about you, that no one in the world loved you.

And—although he never thought such a thing would ever happen—he felt guilty for hurting Voldemort's feelings.

Incredibly confused, he went back to sleep, only to feel more uncomfortable than he ever had before.

In fact, he felt lonely.

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Ooh! Intriguing, even if I only say so myself.

**Anyone else still think that this is a peculiar story? Well, I get criticism and flames more regularly than I used to, which is disheartening. Honestly, if you don't like the fic, don't review! And if you don't think that you'll like it, don't read it.**

**Those who flame just get a kick out of hurting other people's feelings. I hope that Hades has a special place in hell for them. Not that anyone's flamed this story yet, from what I recall.**

**Anyway.**

**Rant over!**

**Please review.**


	4. In a Contemplative Fashion

"In a Contemplative Fashion"

"_He's really in love with me?"_

"_Yes. Didn't you see just how worried he was?"_

_Harry nodded slowly. He also remembered how hurt Voldemort looked when he was told to leave. His eyes had been glistening, but Harry had looked away before he could see any more._

_He knew what it was like to feel that no one in the world cared about you, that no one in the world loved you._

_And—although he never thought such a thing would ever happen—he felt guilty for hurting Voldemort's feelings._

_Incredibly confused, he went back to sleep, only to feel more uncomfortable than he ever had before._

_In fact, he felt lonely._

Harry slept fitfully the few nights following. Finally, he was released from the hospital wing, and was glad to be back in the Gryffindor common room. Almost everyone was buzzing with questions, mainly about what it was like to have Voldemort following him around like a puppy.

"I've barely spent five minutes awake with him since the battle," Harry told them, frowning. They still demanded answers, answers which he refused to give. Ron had the unexpected tact to give him the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, so that he could get away to a quiet place.

However, Harry ended up doing something slightly different.

He studied the map until he found Voldemort's name. He was sitting by the lake, unmoving. Frowning, Harry made his way down to the Entrance Hall, looked around, and then slipped out when the coast was clear. Even his cloak wouldn't disguise the doors opening and closing 'by themselves'.

Outside, taking in sunshine for the first time in—it was almost a month, wasn't it?—he breathed in the clean air. He squinted across the grounds, and spotted the dark figure by the water, leaning against a tree. Harry pulled off the cloak, cleared the map, and shoved both into his pocket. He made his way across the lawn as quietly as he could; but it wasn't quiet enough. Voldemort twisted around when he head the leaf being crunched underfoot. The tension almost left his body when he saw who it was; but he stiffened again, and returned to his original position.

"What is it, Har… Mr. Potter? I trust you have made a full recovery?

"Madame Pomfrey thinks so."

"Good." Harry noted the clenched hands, but didn't feel afraid.

"I'm sorry about the way I reacted," he said. Voldemort's head turned slightly, but he still didn't look at Harry. "It was rude and uncalled for, and I didn't think before I spoke. You were only there to look after me."

"I was there because I love you."

"…Yeah." Harry scratched his head. "Uh, thanks for protecting me in the battle."

"It didn't matter _what_ I did," Voldemort said, standing. He strode to the edge of the lake. "You still received the worst injuries, and the most."

"Yeah, but I was also trying to protect everyone."

"Not… not _everyone_." Harry shook his head. "But I cannot blame you, considering what a horrific person I've been."

"I still shouldn't've been so…"

"You were right to behave the way you did."

"It was still…"

"Perfectly understandable."

"No!" Harry grabbed him by the arm, and turned him around. "You're still a human being. You still have feelings, and I can understand them."

"You can?"

"I'm an orphan, too. Most of my life I've felt unloved. I didn't even know who I really was until I was eleven. We've both had bad childhoods. I still hate you for what you've done…"

"I knew you would. I couldn't accept it, but the headmaster made me see sense. And your bad childhood is all my fault."

"You still don't have anyone, though, do you?"

"No." Voldemort sighed. "No, I don't."

* * *

"Miss Granger, would you care to follow me?" Professor Snape asked. Hermione nodded, wide-eyed, as they walked to his office. Once inside, he locked and warded the door, and sat at his desk. He waved a hand, and she sat opposite.

"What is it, sir?" she said.

He thought back to her time in the hospital. She started to get an infection from her leg injury; and, while it was treated swiftly, she still got a fever. In her delirium, she had mentioned him by name—several times—and it was in a… favourable way. Now he just had to address the issue. Somehow.

"Do you remember anything you said while you were ill?" he said. She shook her head. "I see. Because I wished to ask about one thing of interest."

"Oh?" Her voice broke, and she blushed. "Is that so, sir?"

"Yes." He smirked. "You said my name."

"Oh?"

"My first name."

"Oh."

"In fact, you moaned it, and not in a painful way, I may add."

"I… I'm sorry, sir," she whispered, and she buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"What did you mean by it, Miss Granger? Surely you cannot have feelings for me, of all people."

"Oh, but I _do_, sir! I mean…" She looked horrified at her admission, and stood. "I have to go."

"And how do you intend to leave this room… Hermione?"

She froze at the door. Not because she remembered that it was locked, but that he had said her name.

"…Sir?"

"My dear," he said, crossing the room to her, "why are you so shy now?" He leaned close. "Say it."

She swallowed. "I can't…"

"_Say it_."

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "S-severus."

"Again."

"Severus."

"Like you mean it, girl."

She dropped her voice. "_Severus_," she said, moaning it just like she had when she was delirious. He inhaled with a hiss.

"Come to me after graduation," he said, and he unlocked the door. She looked surprised, and then disappointed. But he merely nudged her out, and she obeyed, sighing.

The rest of term would certainly be dragging on.

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Hmm. What does everything think, my dear readers? This is one of the odder stories that I've written; but then, it is based on an intriguing challenge idea. And, as some of you many know, I like to write odd things. Odd pairings.

**Hence some of my upcoming Hermione-with-a-Death-Eater fics.**

**Oi! I can totally justify any darn pairing I like, given three-quarters a mind.**

**Review, review, review!**


	5. End of Term, Thank Merlin!

"End of Term, Thank Merlin!"

"_Say it."_

_She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "S-severus."_

"_Again."_

"_Severus."_

"_Like you mean it, girl."_

_She dropped her voice. "Severus," she said, moaning it just like she had when she was delirious. He inhaled with a hiss._

"_Come to me after graduation," he said, and he unlocked the door. She looked surprised, and then disappointed. But he merely nudged her out, and she obeyed, sighing._

_The rest of term would certainly be dragging on._

Graduation came. Voldemort's trial was scheduled for the next day. He had been staying in the headmaster's guest bedroom, under his constant supervision. Now, he was sitting to one side of the Great Hall, watching with half-eager eyes as Harry applauded his friends. As Hermione approached the platform to accept her graduation certificate, he looked at Severus.

Now, there was a man with lust written all over his face.

"…with some of the highest NEWT results this school has ever seen. Congratulations, Miss Granger."

There was thunderous clapping as she shook Dumbledore's hand, beaming. Flashes of light went off from where Colin Creevey was taking photographs. Voldemort smiled at the astonishment that the visiting Muggles continued to display. Some were still staring at the ceiling. Others were examining the moving pictures which Colin had already taken. It amused him, and yet also fascinated him. There was so much they could be taught, if only someone _could_ take the time to teach them.

Why had he ever wanted to get rid of these people?

He was distracted by a wave of sound. Looking up, he saw that Hermione had left the platform. Severus had stood up, and was following her, causing a stir among everyone in attendance. She turned around, and gasped as he leapt to the floor. Before she could speak, he pulled her into his arms. Bending her back over his arm, he planted his lips on hers.

Several people shouted "Hey!", "Oi!", or other variations. But, judging by Hermione's response—which involved digging her fingers into his hair and moving her body against his—there was no need to 'rescue' her. Her parents were absolutely shocked, but couldn't do anything about it as their daughter was pulled out the side entrance.

"That was subtle," Harry and Voldemort both said. They stared at each other across the silent room, surprised. Voldemort looked away first, studying the floor.

Soon, everyone had settled down after the scandalous exit, and the ceremony continued where it had left off. When Harry went to accept his certificate, Colin took a multitude of pictures, and Voldemort resolved to get one of them afterwards. If nothing else, he could Summon one from the drying pile.

And he'd get a picture of Hermione for Severus while he was at it.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, and there was a standing ovation. It was strange, in a way; Voldemort was still alive; Harry hadn't done anything.

At any rate, Voldemort led the standing ovation, and he also clapped the hardest. By the end of the ceremony, only the Grangers were still worried about their daughter. Everyone else was busy collecting photos, posing for more, and starting to eat and drink. Voldemort tried to make his way to Harry, but it was too crowded, and there were too many people congratulating him. He hung back instead, until he noticed the Grangers trying to leave. He hurried over to them.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," he said smoothly.

"Oh… hello, again," Mr. Granger said. They'd been introduced when they visited Hermione in the infirmary. Understandably, they were still nervous around him.

"How are you?"

"We're fine," Mrs. Granger said. "We just want to find Hermione. It's been quite some time, and…"

"It's fairly obvious what they were going to do," Mr. Granger added.

"Do you wish me to find them? It may make it…"

"Less embarrassing?"

"Yes."

"That would be very kind of you," Mrs. Granger said. She placed her hand on his arm. "Thank you."

Voldemort looked down at her hand, and she quickly removed it. But he smiled at her.

"No," he said. "Thank _you_." He glanced across the room, and saw Harry. He looked away again quickly and strode from the room. Nodding at Dumbledore on the way, he went to the dungeons.

* * *

"Gods, I love you," Hermione whispered. Severus slammed the door shut, and pressed her up against it. Neither had been thinking as they ran out of the hall; at least, not thinking with their heads.

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"Good." He kissed her forcefully, until she began to slide down the wood. He swept her into his arms. "Because I love you, too." She smiled lazily at him as he carried her, bridal-style, to his sleeping quarters.

* * *

Almost an hour later, they were awoken by a loud knocking.

"Coming!" Severus called. Hermione giggled, and he frowned at her.

"What?"

"So young," he said, his voice soft as his gaze moved down her naked body. She blushed, and climbed off his bed. They both dressed quickly, and Hermione tried to smooth down her hair while he answered the door.

"Severus," Voldemort said, raising an eyebrow. "You've done something new to your hair."

"Oh, shut up," he muttered, trying to make himself presentable. "What is it?"

"Miss Granger's parents are concerned. Not for her virtue—I believe that it is fairly obvious to all that you have taken care of that particular problem—but that she will miss out on dinner. They also wish to spend some time with her on this important day."

"And they sent you?"

"I volunteered. I wanted to get away from there anyway." He looked at the floor, and sighed. "There is nothing for me there."

"Hmm." Severus continued to stare at Voldemort, until Hermione walked up beside him.

"We'd better go back. Separately," she added. He nodded, and she gave him a quick kiss, before hurrying back to the Great Hall.

"I'm sure it will all work out," Severus said. Not knowing what else to do, he patted his shoulder, and moved past him. "Are you coming?"

"…No."

"You must. If nothing else, you should at least get something to eat."

"I almost forgot," Voldemort said. He handed over a photograph of Hermione. "I got this for you."

Severus nodded, smiling down at the picture. "I love her."

"You make a good couple, even though you have been, to say the least, indiscreet."

"It was worth it, though."

"Stop looking so smug. Go and join her, Severus."

"Very well." He warded his rooms as usual. "But you should…"

"No. I am going to my room. I must get rest for tomorrow. Good evening, Severus."

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I promise; there'll be less Severus/Hermione action now, and almost entirely Harry/Voldemort. As stated in the story summary, there will only be mild slash, and the rating is mainly due to the above scene between Hermione and Severus.

**See you next time!**


	6. Results of the Trial

"Results of the Trial"

"_I almost forgot," Voldemort said. He handed over a photograph of Hermione. "I got this for you."_

_Severus nodded, smiling down at the picture. "I love her."_

"_You make a good couple, even though you have been, to say the least, indiscreet."_

"_It was worth it, though."_

"_Stop looking so smug. Go and join her, Severus."_

"_Very well." He warded his rooms as usual. "But you should…"_

"_No. I am going to my room. I must get rest for tomorrow. Good evening, Severus."_

It was front page news, naturally. Harry frowned as he read the article.

_**VOLDEMORT FREE**_

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, after demonstrating that he means no harm towards the wizarding and Muggle communities, has been released under probation._

_Currently imprisoned at Azkaban, he must remain under house arrest as soon as suitable living arrangements are made…_

The article went on at some length with the details of the trial. Harry had been there, so he didn't need the blow-by-blow account. All he needed to worry about was the letter that Dumbledore had sent. Now living by himself at Grimmauld Place, the headmaster had suggested the obvious.

_Dear Harry,_

_You must be lonely where you are. Please take this question seriously: how would it be if you took him in? Lord Voldemort has nowhere else to go, and you are The-Boy-Who-Lived. It would settle the public's mind if you were the one to look after him, as it were. Better than if I did. He may have been staying at Hogwarts these last few months, but it still does nothing for the school's reputation._

_I understand perfectly if you do not wish to consider this, particularly with your history. And you would no doubt be uncomfortable with his feelings for you. But do think about it. When you received your Hogwarts letter, you were given a second chance. You almost had a second chance with Sirius. And Voldemort's infatuation—and thus defeat—gave everyone else a second chance._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore._

"Manipulative git," Harry said, glaring at the elegant handwriting. Did the headmaster really think that playing on his emotions would work? No. He couldn't take Voldemort into his home. Never. They just had to give him the antidote to the potion. That's all. Then no one had to worry. They could issue a proper sentence.

So why didn't they?

_

* * *

_

Dear Harry,

_I asked Severus. He told me that the potion has to be administered within one week. At the time, it would have been too dangerous. The antidote wouldn't work now._

_Professor Dumbledore is right, in a way. But don't do anything that you don't want to do. This is about you just as much as it is about Voldemort. And you're living in Sirius's old home, although that shouldn't have any bearing upon your decision._

_As always, you can talk to me. Just don't barge in on us like you did the day after graduation, okay? I refuse to pay for your therapy._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

He grimaced, remembering when he'd caught them half-clothed in the potions classroom, apparently playing out some kind of kinky student-teacher fantasy. If he hadn't graduated already, Gryffindor would have lost all of its points… although Hermione would probably have got all of them back within half an hour.

Two nights Harry deliberated. On the third day, he went to the Ministry. He desperately wanted to be selfish, and live in isolation, or give some of his friends a place to stay. But somehow—no doubt through the headmaster—the press had got onto the idea of him taking in the former Dark Lord. The public loved it. It was just easier to give into the pressure of the wizarding world. He didn't want any more trouble. Peace sounded brilliant after the last seven years

"I'm here to take Voldemort into custody," he told an official.

* * *

How had Sirius survived? Harry was just glad that he could cast a corporeal Patronus, since the Dementors were still floating around.

It was a miserable place all the same. He grimaced as they made their way to Voldemort's cell. Other prisoners jeered at him, and he ignored them, instead keeping his eyes peeled for his new housemate.

"`Ere `e is," the warder said. Harry nodded, and waited as the door was unlocked. Voldemort was snoozing, and he approached carefully.

"Wake up," he said, gently shaking him. Voldemort sat up quickly, looking around, disoriented. Then he realised who was standing in front of him, and his eyes lit up.

"Harry," he said, and he grinned. "You came for me. I just knew you would."

"Yeah, well." Harry scratched his head, and took a step back. "Come on. Let's get you… home."

Voldemort nodded eagerly. He followed Harry obediently, and they were at number twelve not fifteen minutes later. Once inside the house, he leaned against a wall in the hallway. He took a deep breath, and smiled gently.

"Thank you for saving me," he said.

"It's fine. Uh, your room's up here." They walked up the stairs, and he showed Voldemort to one of the bedrooms. "This belonged to Regulus Black. I wasn't sure if…"

"No, it's fine. It's wonderful." He nodded. "Yes. Where can I shower?"

Harry showed him around the rest of the house. Voldemort didn't mind that there was no house elf.

"I want to do my part," he said. "I'll do the cleaning. If you like, I can do the cooking, too. Please let me help, Harry." He looked so hopeful, that Harry shrugged.

"Whatever you want. I'll get lunch and dinner ready tonight, and breakfast tomorrow. Then you can see where everything is, and how it all works. Do you know how to cook?"

"Well… no."

Harry sighed. "Then I guess I'll teach you."

"You know how?"

"Yes. I had to cook for the Dursleys."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He shuffled nervously. "Is there anything you want to do now?"

"Am I allowed to go to Diagon Alley?"

"No. You have to stay here, though you can go into the backyard. You know, such as it is."

"Ah! I can do gardening."

"You can?" He was surprised, but Voldemort nodded.

"My plan was… well, you know how I wanted immortality?"

"Yeah."

"It was because I never expected to have children. I was never that way inclined." He blushed. "Clearly." Harry coughed. "I assumed that, once I'd taken over the wizarding world, I'd be able to semi-retire. I took up gardening in my spare time so I'd have something to do between managing everything and everyone."

"Oh. Well, that's logical… I guess. Why do you want to go to Diagon Alley?"

"I have a bank vault. One the Ministry can't get at. However… you could."

"And what would you do with it?"

"I wanted to, uh, give some money to…" He cleared his throat. "To some charities. It's a good thing to do, isn't it? That's what I've heard. And there are some funds that have been established thanks to everything I've done, and my followers have done. Orphans, widows, widowers. I wanted to help."

"That's…" Harry gaped, and shook his head. "Sorry. That's a good idea. You want me to access it?"

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This story, it has been decided, will be fifteen chapters long. There will be skips in time, so don't flame me because things appear to be moving too fast. And, again, this is non-canon and out of character, so don't flame me either for whatever happens. It's based on a challenge, as I stated at the beginning of the fic.

**I apologise to those who have done nothing to merit these rants of mine. I'm feeling defensive at the moment because of some flames that I've received recently. Even mild ones where people have made assumptions, or stupid comments. Things that get my goat.**

**Anyway!**

**Please review.**


	7. A Better Person

"A Better Person"

"_I have a bank vault. One the Ministry can't get at. However… you could."_

"_And what would you do with it?"_

"_I wanted to, uh, give some money to…" He cleared his throat. "To some charities. It's a good thing to do, isn't it? That's what I've heard. And there are some funds that have been established thanks to everything I've done, and my followers have done. Orphans, widows, widowers. I wanted to help."_

"_That's…" Harry gaped, and shook his head. "Sorry. That's a good idea. You want me to access it?"_

Lord Voldemort, as it turned out, had been dead serious: he gave almost all of his fortune to the various charities which had been started due to the devastation he had caused, by himself and through his followers. The rest he divided between Harry and Severus, to contribute to household costs for the former, and to help the latter start up a proper life with the girl he adored.

It was a romantic streak that surprised many.

"You _do_ realise that the Ministry is footing half of your expenses, right?" Harry said as he helped Voldemort unpack the shopping.

"I know. But they haven't provided me with a cookbook, have they? And they should be directing the taxpayers' money elsewhere, _not_ at providing people like me with comfortable lodgings. If I was in charge…" He trailed off. "Never mind."

"What would you do?"

"Harry," Voldemort said warning, "we can't go down that road."

"Tell me."

"…All right." He sat down, and smiled up at Harry. "You know I can't refuse you anything."

"Uh, yeah. But if you'd won, I would have been killed."

"Not you, Harry." Voldemort stood again, hasty to reassure him. "Never you." Eyes wide, he looked absolutely horrified by the idea, and then hurt when Harry backed up. "I could never let you get hurt. Not when I love you so much."

"But you _didn't_…"

"Oh, Harry," he said, shaking his head. "I've always loved you. Ever since the first time we met, I've loved you. Why can't you see that?" His smile disappeared, and he hung his head. "Why can't you see that we're meant for each other?"

Harry decided to try again another day. Sometime, Voldemort just _had_ to accept that he'd taken a love potion, and that his feelings were simply manufactured. "Well, what about Hermione?"

"No doubt Severus would have asked for her as a boon, or a favour. She would have been his, just like that. No harm done."

"What about my friends? Half-bloods, Muggleborns, blood traitors. They would have been offed, wouldn't they?"

"Not all of them," he said, sitting down again. He tilted his head, looking into the distance. "No. Some would have been enslaved, or used for breeding purposes. After all, what kind of future would the wizarding world have if it was flooded with inbreeds? The number of Squibs born would increase phenomenally."

"Brood mares? Stud farms? That's no way to treat human beings," Harry said, looking ill. "Gods, how could you think of something like that? It's disgusting."

Voldemort looked at his hands, and felt tears forming again. Why did Harry hate him so much? He wasn't the nicest of people; in fact, he knew that he'd done some pretty horrible things, and was ashamed of himself for that. But he loved Harry so much that it just _had_ to be true love! And true love was always requited.

There was always this ache whenever Harry was around, like a gaping hole in his heart, that only one person could fill. He was always on the brink of blushing, and always worried that he'd say something stupid. It was worse than being under the Cruciatus Curse, the knowledge that the boy—the man—he loved despised him.

"Dumbledore must be wrong," he murmured. Harry sat on the chair beside him.

"About what?"

"I must be hideous to look at. I'm one of the best students Hogwarts has ever seen—my test results speak for themselves, for Merlin's sake!—so it must be my appearance." He swiped at an embarrassing tear. "The headmaster said that I look better than I used to. I must have been a fright to look at before."

"You were," Harry admitted, nodding. Voldemort turned away, and he placed a hand on his back. It was immediately shrugged off, but he stubbornly persisted. The fourth time, Voldemort let his hand stay there.

"Then don't look at me."

"But before you were so pale—paler than Professor Snape—and you had no eyebrows, no hair, no nose, and red eyes."

"Huh. Then anything would be an improvement. No wonder you couldn't stand me."

"Uh… yeah. That's the reason." Harry's eyes strayed, and he bit his lower lip before continuing. "Well, not entirely. That'd be wrong just to… you know, base feelings on appearances… uh, never mind. You're quite good-looking now."

"It's all right. You don't have to be nice."

"It's true. I saw you when you were a teenager."

He turned around, frowning. "What?"

"I mean, pictures," Harry said. He let his hand fall back to his lap. "You only look a bit older than you did then. I can't really say, being male and all," he scratched his head, "but you're, uh, well, attractive." He flushed, and looked away. "At least, I think so."

"Really?" Voldemort looked as hopeful as he sounded. "You think I'm attractive?"

"As I said, I'm no judge. `Cause, you know, I'm male, and straight. But I could ask Hermione."

"No, no," he said. "I believe you." He smiled to himself, and looked at his hands again. He squirmed. Harry could have sworn that, if the seats were high enough, Voldemort would have been swinging his legs like a little girl.

He smiled as well, shaking his head as he looked away. He stood up, and continued to unpack the shopping. Voldemort eventually joined in. The last item he pulled out was a cookbook. Harry had been teaching him, and bought him the book so he could try something on his own.

"I wish you had the time to help me some more," Voldemort said, setting the book on a shelf. It was his first cookbook; in fact, the first book someone ever bought him without any ulterior motives. Unless good cooking counted as an ulterior motive.

"Well, I have to start Auror training."

"I know. Isn't it ironic?"

"What is?"

"That you're training to be an Auror, and I'm living with you."

"Well, I guess."

"Very domestic, though." Harry tilted his head, and Voldemort pointed from one to the other of them. "You're the husband going out to work, and I'm the wife staying at home, cleaning and cooking. All that's missing is the children." He chuckled, and put the shopping bags away.

Harry left the kitchen quickly.

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OOC-ness will abound from here onwards. Also, there will be some drama. Sorry for the lack of humour for the last few chapters or so. I'll have insane moments, of course. But then, that comes naturally to me.

**Please review!**


	8. Care

"Care"

"_Well, I have to start Auror training."_

"_I know. Isn't it ironic?"_

"_What is?"_

"_That you're training to be an Auror, and I'm living with you."_

"_Well, I guess."_

"_Very domestic, though." Harry tilted his head, and Voldemort pointed from one to the other of them. "You're the husband going out to work, and I'm the wife staying at home, cleaning and cooking. All that's missing is the children." He chuckled, and put the shopping bags away._

_Harry left the kitchen quickly._

It could be so creepy sometimes. Everyone knew what kind of person Voldemort had been; and yet so many were being taken in by his new personality.

Even Harry.

Yes, it was true. Now, not only was Voldemort donating to charities, but he was also helping them, from Grimmauld Place, anyway. He had assisted in the repairs of Hogsmeade, since they took so long. He even organised bake sales, putting his new cooking skills to good use. Harry bought him another two cookbooks as a reward.

But that husband-and-wife comment had shaken him.

"Good morning!" Voldemort chirped. Harry sat down at the kitchen table, kitted out for his day at the Ministry. Before him sat a plate with bacon, eggs, sausages, and tomatoes. A plate of buttered toast sat in the middle of the table. Voldemort placed a glass of pumpkin juice beside him, and sat down, too. It was becoming routine. Harry did his usual check for poisons and curses; and, as always, came up with nothing. In fact, the only thing his checks did was bring a look of sadness to his housemate's face.

It really did hurt that Harry felt the need to make sure nothing was wrong. As if he could ever hurt the man he loved! An ache would settle in his chest. Why couldn't Harry trust him? Hadn't he proven himself time and time again? It was like this every meal. It took away his appetite something awful. He'd pick at his food, and only swallow it down because he didn't want Harry to worry about him.

Well, he did, but not because he didn't have the heart to eat.

He just wanted his love to be returned.

* * *

When Harry got home that evening, he could smell onion coming from the kitchen. Onion, and freshly-baked bread. Two of his favourite scents in the world. As soon as Voldemort had worked this out, he tried to make sure that they had one or the other—or both—every night.

He was concerned about the former Dark Lord. Voldemort was looking pale again, and thinner than before. There were bags under his eyes.

During lunch at the MoM, Harry had talked to Hermione about it.

"D'you think it's from the love potion?" he had asked.

"Possibly. But think about it, Harry. Voldemort is pining after you. They may be false emotions, but they're still there. Severus told me that he's never experienced feelings like that before. Most likely he doesn't know what to do about them."

"What do you mean?"

She adopted her lecturing face. "Under the influence of the love potion, he won't be able to understand why you don't love him back. It will confuse him. He'll feel inadequate, and in need of reassurance. Without that reassurance, he will become withdrawn. He will consider himself unworthy of you."

"I already needed to 'reassure' him, as you put it," Harry said, stirring the pasta around in its container.

"There you are."

"So you're saying that, because he 'loves' me, he's wasting away?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say wasting away. Not physically. You told me that he doesn't eat quickly."

"No, he doesn't."

"No wonder he's losing weight. It's not from lack of eating." She sighed. "It's up to you, Harry. It would be a long, painful, and heartbreaking way for him to go. I'll ask Severus again if there's anything that can be done."

"Hermione, I can't just…"

"I'm not making any suggestions, Harry. I'm just trying to help you see the situation from the point-of-view of an outsider." She stood, and cleared away her things. "See you tomorrow?"

"Uh, yeah. See you tomorrow."

* * *

That night, he tried something different. Voldemort hadn't tried to poison him yet. Just in case, Harry kept a bezoar in his pocket when he went down to dinner after getting changed. He fingered the stone, liking the reassurance that it provided. He sat at the table, smiling at Voldemort, who tensed as usual. But instead of reaching for his wand, Harry just reached for his drink.

"Cheers," he said, raising his glass. Voldemort dropped into his seat in shock. He raised his own glass, watching closely as Harry drank. The young man placed the juice back on the table, picked up knife and fork, and began to eat.

Voldemort's expression softened, and he smiled. He blinked back tears again; only this time, they were tears of relief and happiness. He tucked into his food, his hunger returning. It wasn't a declaration of love—although he could always pretend that it was later on—but it at least showed that Harry trusted him, and that meant _almost_ as much.

"Dessert?" he asked. "There are still some cupcakes left under stasis."

"Sure. We can have them after the news, though."

They went to the living room, and for the first time, Voldemort watched television with Harry. The news consisted of bad weather overseas, some kind of significant sporting finals, and a couple of court cases. Very boring. After the weather at the end, Harry switched off the telly, and sat back. He turned his head and smiled at Voldemort, who smiled back.

"Want me to get the cupcakes?" Harry asked, preparing to stand up. "You've been working hard lately."

"So have you."

"Mmm, but I'm getting paid for it." He slid to the edge of the couch, about to get up, when Voldemort's hand shot across and held his arm. Harry looked down at it, knowing that he should be unnerved by the sudden movement; but he felt surprisingly safe. Voldemort wouldn't harm him. It took him this long to realise it, but while Voldemort was still under the influence of the potion, he constituted no danger.

"Please," Voldemort said, his voice soft as his thumb rubbed Harry's hand. He moved closer, gaze never wavering as he cupped Harry's cheek. The young man was frozen. What was going on? He wouldn't…

Voldemort pulled back, lips tingling. Only two seconds later, he pressed his mouth against Harry's again, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. Two arms crept up around his shoulders, and he heard a moan escape. His heart leapt, and he pulled back, smiling down at his love. Harry's eyes were closed, his lips parted as if waiting.

But then he opened his eyes, looking horrified.

"Oh god," he said, scooting away. He was flushed and shaking. "What have I done? Why did you…"

"I'm sorry! I couldn't help myself. I just… I've wanted to do that for so long," Voldemort said. He was absolutely mortified, and buried his face in his hands. Merlin, he wanted to kill himself. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry made a noise of disgust, resting his head in one hand, clutching the hem of his robes in the other. Voldemort glanced at him, and then at his pocket. Another quick movement, and he grabbed Harry's wand. As he pulled it from the robes, something else fell onto the floor.

A bezoar.

"Oh," he said. "You never trusted me, did you?" He gripped the wand in his hand. Harry tensed, eyes trained on the weapon. Voldemort raised it. "Good bye, Harry."

With a twirl, he Apparated away, leaving Harry alone and wandless.

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Don't you just love it when the news is boring? But you know what I hate? I hate it when sports news ends up in the main news instead of staying in the sports section. It already gets about a third of the program anyway. I swear, if some huge sporting triumph happened in the middle of a world war, and a significant battle took place, the sporting triumph would take precedence over the battle on the news.

**Anyway!**

**Please review! Next chapter: Voldemort is found. Remember, he's supposed to be under house arrest.**


	9. Where Is He?

"Where Is He?"

"_I'm sorry! I couldn't help myself. I just… I've wanted to do that for so long," Voldemort said. He was absolutely mortified, and buried his face in his hands. Merlin, he wanted to kill himself. "I'm sorry, Harry."_

_Harry made a noise of disgust, resting his head in one hand, clutching the hem of his robes in the other. Voldemort glanced at him, and then at his pocket. Another quick movement, and he grabbed Harry's wand. As he pulled it from the robes, something else fell onto the floor._

_A bezoar._

"_Oh," he said. "You never trusted me, did you?" He gripped the wand in his hand. Harry tensed, eyes trained on the weapon. Voldemort raised it. "Good bye, Harry."_

_With a twirl, he Apparated away, leaving Harry alone and wandless._

Harry sat there, still in shock. Lord Voldemort has kissed him. Twice. And he had responded both times. By returning the kiss.

He had closed his eyes.

He had expected more.

He had betrayed his parents.

He had betrayed everyone.

"Ugh!" he shouted, standing up. Then he gasped. Voldemort had his wand. This was a bigger revelation than the fact that he was not only probably gay, but had kissed the former Dark Lord, his long-time enemy.

He strode to the fireplace, and threw in some floo powder. Kneeling down, he stuck his head into the flames, and shouted Professor Snape's address.

"Hermione," he whispered. She was curled up in an armchair only two feet away from the fireplace. She looked up, and then noticed him.

"Harry!" she cried, falling to her knees before him. "How are you? Gods, you look white as a sheet."

"Something bad has happened," he said. "Voldemort is gone."

"What?"

"He's gone! He used my wand to Apparate away."

"Why would he leave you?" she asked. "I thought… Harry, what happened?"

"Oh gods," he said. "It was awful. And yet… not as bad as I thought it would be. It was unexpected, and then I reacted, and then I realised what I was doing, and he ran away…"

"Try to make sense, Harry."

"Hermione? What's going on, dearest?" Professor Snape walked into the room, and arched an eyebrow. "I trust that Potter's head has not been sent to us as a present?"

"Be quiet, Severus. Something terrible has occurred."

"Ah. So Potter's head is still attached to the rest of them?"

"Severus! Oh, ignore him, Harry. Just tell me what happened."

"We'd been watching the news, and I was about to go and get dessert, and Voldemort stopped me from leaving. Then he kissed me…"

"He didn't," Professor Snape said.

"He did. Twice. And I… Merlin, help me. I kissed him back."

"You did?" Hermione squealed, beaming. "Oh, he must have been so happy!"

"Calm down, my love," Professor Snape said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What happened then, Potter?"

"I remembered who I was kissing, and pulled back. I was disgusted with myself. And then he took my wand, and Apparated away. I thought he was going to attack me. Now I feel terrible for thinking that he'd hurt me, when all _I've_ done is hurt him, all this time. Well, you know, ever since I woke up in the hospital wing." He shook his head. "I don't know where he is. I knew it was a long shot, but…"

"No, he isn't here, Potter. Quite frankly, if he came here, I would turf him straight back out. I don't want the Ministry in my house, disrupting everything and everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Just the two of us, he means," Hermione said, blushing.

"True. She does enough screaming for more than one person. It can be confusing." He smirked, and Harry looked sick.

"Didn't need to know that," he muttered. "Look, do either of you know where he might be?"

They both looked at the professor, who rolled his eyes.

"I am hardly an expert on the Dark Lord, Potter," he said.

"But he's got my wand!"

"Not the one he wants, I bet."

"Severus!" Hermione said. "Honestly. I don't know why I'm in love with you."

"Let me take you to our room and show you why."

"Love doesn't start in the bedroom," she said.

"I'm going," Harry told them.

"Sorry we couldn't be more helpful, Harry," Hermione said, though she was looking at her lover, who was carefully tracing circles on her arm, staring right back. "You told me that he told you about his childhood."

"Yeah."

"Maybe there's a clue there," she said, standing.

"Go no, Potter. I am about to block the floo network; so unless you wish to be beheaded, leave."

"Severus, don't be so r…"

Her words were cut off by his lips, and Harry pulled back, flopping to his behind on the carpet. He looked up as he heard an owl at the window. When he let it in, it simply dropped off a letter from the Ministry of Magic. He sighed, and opened it.

_Mr. Potter,_

_The Ministry is aware that the criminal known as Lord Voldemort left your house tonight at 6:02pm. Please alert the Ministry as soon as he returns, so that he can be arrested for violating his parole._

He crumpled the parchment, and dropped it on the floor. He wracked his brains for any of the places that Voldemort had mentioned when he talked about his life before becoming the Dark Lord. There were several obvious places, ones that the Ministry knew about. But there was one that he had described… one that the MoM didn't know. He remembered that Voldemort had been upset that he had forgotten to tell them, and wondered whether he should. Harry had told him that it was unnecessary.

What was the name? Something about rainbows, he thought. Rainbow, rainfall, raincoat, rain…

* * *

Voldemort was hiding beneath a tree in the one place he had loved as a child. The Ministry would no doubt think of this place first. He was curled up in one of his favourite parts of the bog. It was cool, and yet also warm. Warm, because he felt safe there, even though he knew the Aurors would be arriving for him soon.

In fact, why weren't they there yet?

As he twirled the wand, he gazed into the distance. And then, he remembered.

This was the one place they didn't have in his file. Subconsciously, he must have forgotten about it, so that he would have somewhere to go if ever he needed it.

"Damn you, subconsciousness," he said.

Just then, he heard a pop. Only one. He looked up, and was surprised to see Harry.

"How…"

"I still had your wand in safe-keeping in my room," Harry said. "It was just a matter of getting it."

Voldemort stood, and held out Harry's wand. "Here." Harry took it.

"I can't return yours…"

"I know."

A series of resounding pops signalled the arrival of the Aurors. Half the department was there. Harry looked around, shocked. Voldemort raised his hands.

"I am unarmed," he murmured. Kingsley walked forward, and forced magical handcuffs onto him. Well, it wasn't a case of force. Voldemort let himself be arrested. Harry watched on, frozen in shock.

"Was I being followed?" he asked. Ron, who had appeared behind him, spoke.

"Of course, Harry. You know him better than anyone else."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" He looked at Voldemort, and saw him wincing as the magical handcuffs cut into his wrists. "Hey, this is unnecessary. I can just take him home."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Voldemort said. He gave him a sad smile, and the Aurors all Apparated away.

Harry was, once again, left alone.

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It's gettin' to be a habit with him, ain't it?

**The suburb where I live in Brisbane is called Rainworth. You see, the chap who designed and built our house—Sir Augustus Charles Gregory, the explorer—came from Rainworth Village in Nottinghamshire. So he named our house Rainworth House, and the suburb was named after the house.**

**How cool is that?**

**Review, review, review!**


	10. They Join In

"They Join In"

"_Was I being followed?" he asked. Ron, who had appeared behind him, spoke._

"_Of course, Harry. You know him better than anyone else."_

"_Why does everyone keep saying that?" He looked at Voldemort, and saw him wincing as the magical handcuffs cut into his wrists. "Hey, this is unnecessary. I can just take him home."_

"_I'm sorry, Harry," Voldemort said. He gave him a sad smile, and the Aurors all Apparated away._

_Harry was, once again, left alone._

Hermione held Harry's hand as they sat on the couch at number twelve. He was still pale, and trembled every so often.

"You did well," she said. "You looked after him…"

"I didn't. I paid for things, and only because he was too busy giving away money to charities to be practical. Even then, he still gave me money towards the household costs. He cooked, he cleaned, he didn't complain. I barely touched him. Maybe if I had, this wouldn't've happened."

"You don't know that, Harry."

"C'mon, `Mione. No matter how… how 'fake' his feelings are, they're still there. And even if I don't—I mean, even though I don't l-love him, I still should've been more understanding."

"Oh, Harry." She shook her head. "You must stop blaming yourself. He chose to run away like a scared rabbit."

"They…" He stood, and began to pace. "They were so rough with him. He wasn't a rabbit, Hermione. He was… well, he was a lamb. Just let them do what they wanted. You know how bad those handcuffs are. They were so tight. The Aurors treated him like a common criminal!"

"As opposed to what he _really_ is."

"_Was_."

She smiled as he automatically defended Voldemort. Did Harry realise what he was doing?

"He knew that it would be worse if he tried to run again. And, according to you, they'd be able to find him anywhere else."

"Only if I didn't follow him there." He ran a hand through his hair. "I should've stayed here. Then he'd still be free."

"Hmm. From what you told me, I think he would have just gone elsewhere, and waited for them to find him. Or turned himself in. He did run, Harry. He tried to escape his feelings. Why, the number of times I…" She shook her head as she trailed off, and he looked at her curiously.

"What?"

"Well, when I fell in love with Professor Snape—before he seemed to reciprocate, that is—I used to be torn between running away from Hogwarts, and from my feelings for him, or…"

"Or what?"

She smirked. "Getting as many detentions as I could." She shrugged at his astonished look. "The potions classroom featured in most of my dreams."

"Okay. Didn't need to know that, either." But he was smiling.

"Harry, for what it's worth, Severus and I both feel that he's harmless. At least, harmless to most people. The only person in danger from Voldemort is Voldemort himself."

"Because I don't…"

"Yes. But don't finish that sentence, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Just… don't."

He nodded, frowning, and removed his glasses to clean them. "So where's Snape?"

"_Professor_… oh, hell. I'm not going there. He's trying to find out what's happening. Just sit down, _calm_ down, and I'll make some tea, all right?"

She closed the door. It had been an inspired idea on her lover's part to slip a Sleeping Draught into Harry's cup of tea. He was out like a light. She'd just had to Levitate him up to his room, and tuck him in.

And then scarper, so that he wouldn't hex her when he woke up.

* * *

Knowing how much Severus hated to deal with the Ministry—and hated going to Azkaban even more—she dressed in something appropriate, and spread herself on their bed. She was more than willing to let him take out his frustration on her, as she found much enjoyment in the exercise herself.

When she heard him cursing as he stumbled from the fireplace, she smiled. He stomped into their bedroom, pulling off his robes as he went, and threw them onto a chair. He stripped quickly, automatically, and then allowed himself a quick look at her.

"Have I ever told you how much I love that necklace, especially when it's the only thing you're wearing?"

"Show, don't tell," she said, opening her arms. He leapt on top of her, and her pleasured shrieks echoed throughout the house.

Finally, she put a dampener on their cuddling.

"So, what's going to happen to him?"

"Well," he said, stroking her bare stomach, "they're talking about the Dementor's Kiss. I don't know how serious they are."

She sat up straight. "They can't! It's inhuman."

"He is guilty of far more than Bartemius Crouch Junior, and _he_ received the Kiss."

"And Sirius was innocent," she said, scowling. "Voldemort is trying to make up for everything he did."

"Hermione…"

"No, Severus. We have to fight this."

He smirked. "Convince me." She raised an eyebrow. "You know you want to, my dear."

"Fine." She straddled him. "Only don't say that I didn't warn you…"

Some hours later, they went to the Ministry together, and insisted that Voldemort be released back into Harry's custody.

**

* * *

**

Ah, but things are never that simple, are they? No, they are not, dear readers.

**In the next chapter, the saga continues with the Ministry's unknowingly accurate assessment of the relationship between Harry and Voldemort, and Harry's reaction to being told that Voldemort will be given the Kiss.**

**To potential flamers: "You say it best when you say nothing at all."**


	11. Emotionally Involved

"Emotionally Involved"

"_Hermione…"_

"_No, Severus. We have to fight this."_

_He smirked. "Convince me." She raised an eyebrow. "You know you want to, my dear."_

"_Fine." She straddled him. "Only don't say that I didn't warn you…"_

_Some hours later, they went to the Ministry together, and insisted that Voldemort be released back into Harry's custody._

Hermione had been right to clear out of Grimmauld Place. When she and Severus went to number twelve, Harry rounded on her straight away.

"You drugged me! I trusted you, and you drugged me!"

"It was for your own good," she snapped. "Ron was one of the people who suggested that you be followed in the event of Voldemort escaping. I merely forced you to sleep, knowing that you probably wouldn't for some time, given your way."

"It is most ungracious of you to throw this back in your friend's face," Severus said, crossing his arms.

"And I s'pose you were behind it all, weren't you?"

"Of course not. As though I would ever care if you dropped dead from exhaustion."

"Hmm." Hermione looked at her lover. "Anyway, we went to the Ministry."

"And?" Harry asked. "What did they say?"

"They said that you are too emotionally invested in this case," the potions master said, now examining his nails. "Therefore, you will not be called to work on it."

"Emo… emotionally invested?"

"Because you've been Voldemort's sole carer for weeks," Hermione said, placing a hand on his arm. "They believe that you're too close to him."

"Oh, rubbish," he said, moving away. "Just because we've been sharing this place… I mean, I've been going to work most days."

"And helping him 'make a difference in the community' the rest of the time," Severus said, arching an eyebrow. He snorted. "The Ministry is not the only body of people who believes that you are closer than you should be, for former enemies."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Spurned on by _The Daily Prophet_."

"Not just that, Harry," Hermione said. She bit her lower lip, and took another step forward. "You've been so wrapped up in your life here, and your work at the Ministry of Magic, that you haven't paid attention to what people have been saying, or what they've been thinking. Of course, it doesn't help that Voldemort has a perpetually hopeful and loving look around you." Harry groaned, and held his head in his hands. "He can't help it, Harry."

"They should have given him the antidote before it was too late," he said, voice muffled.

"What's done it done. Now we have to face the consequences."

"What consequences?"

"The same which would have met the Dark Lord before," Severus told him. Harry turned swiftly.

"What. Consequences?"

"The… the Dementor's Kiss," Hermione said, lowering her head. "They confirmed it."

"When we went to the Ministry, they told us that it had been quickly decided," Severus said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "My love?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"I will leave you here, if you feel safe."

"Very well."

He kissed her on the lips, but kept it chaste with surprising tact. He swept away in a cloud of green flames. Before he had even disappeared from the fireplace, Harry had collapsed into an armchair. Hermione rushed to his side.

"No," he whispered. "Not the Kiss. How can they? He didn't mean to run; and then he allowed himself to be taken. No trouble. He'd been so good until then. So well-behaved."

"They… weren't planning on letting him off house arrest," she said. He looked down at her in shock. "We believe that they were going to keep him alive for awhile, and then take him into the custody of Azkaban. And then he would either face what he will now face, or…"

"That's so unfair," he said, gazing into the distance. "He's human, Hermione. And I…"

His eyes widened only slightly. Hermione only saw it because she was so close. "You what, Harry?"

"I… I love him." She gasped. "I'm in love with him. I'm in love with Lord Bloody Voldemort, and he's about to be given the Dementor's Kiss. I… I have to save him!"

"Harry!" But he had Disapparated, and she knew that he was headed for Azkaban. "Oh, you foolish boy."

**

* * *

**

Huzzah! It has finally been said, to my utter delight, and I'm sure to yours as well.

**The bit about Harry loving Voldemort, of course. Not Hermione's comment about him being foolish.**


	12. Secrets Revealed

"Secrets Revealed"

"_They… weren't planning on letting him off house arrest," she said. He looked down at her in shock. "We believe that they were going to keep him alive for awhile, and then take him into the custody of Azkaban. And then he would either face what he will now face, or…"_

"_That's so unfair," he said, gazing into the distance. "He's human, Hermione. And I…"_

_His eyes widened only slightly. Hermione only saw it because she was so close. "You what, Harry?"_

"_I… I love him." She gasped. "I'm in love with him. I'm in love with Lord Bloody Voldemort, and he's about to be given the Dementor's Kiss. I… I have to save him!"_

"_Harry!" But he had Disapparated, and she knew that he was headed for Azkaban. "Oh, you foolish boy."_

"So you left Potter behind, did you?" Severus asked when his lover appeared before him.

"Oh, Severus. When will you learn to accept that he is my _friend_?"

"I already accept that, my love. It does not mean, however, that I must respect him. He must earn that."

"Look," she said, and she straddled his lap, "I know you've had your issues with each other in the past, but can't you just get over it?"

"He does not approve of us," he said, stroking her hips.

"I can't understand why," she said dryly.

"Why are we still talking about Potter? I can think of something much more pleasurable we could be doing. Although I know how much you like me to talk when we're f…"

Her lips cut him off, and felt herself being lowered to the couch beside him as he thrust his pelvis against hers. With a moan, she gave in…

For about five seconds.

"What?" he growled as she tugged her shirt back down.

"I'm sorry, Sev. I'm just worried about Harry and Voldemort. Now that Harry's admitted to loving him…"

"What?" he repeated, shouting his time. He sat up so fast that Hermione yelped. "He what?"

"Harry realised that he loves Voldemort. He told me. He's in love with him. Isn't it wonderful? And yet so tragic," she said, shaking her head. She looked up as her lover stood, and began to pace. "What's the matter?"

"Damn Potter," he muttered. "Foolish boy."

"You're telling me," she said, smiling. But he looked so worried that she stopped. "There's something wrong with that?"

"On so many levels, Miss Granger," he said, glaring down at her. "Did you have a hand in this?"

"What? No! I can't force someone to fall in love."

"Unless you gave him a love potion in his tea instead of a sleeping draught."

She gaped. "How could you? Why would I do that? I knew that Harry was beginning to care about him. Even though I'd never sink so low, it would've been unnecessary."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he shouted.

"What was there to tell? It's just love!"

"You stupid girl. He should have been stopped." He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the greasiness. Hermione never commented on it, so he never did anything about it.

"Why? What's the harm?"

"Because," he said, stalking over to her, "of the potion."

"The… what potion? I told you, I didn't give him any…"

"The original love potion. It wears off only when the object of," he made a face, "'affection' returns the love."

"…Oh."

"Indeed."

"I didn't know that. Really, Severus! I never read about it."

"So if Potter is correct in his assessment of his feelings, Voldemort will no longer be in love with him."

"_Oh_." She bit her lower lip, and he towered over her.

"Something you wish to get off your chest, Miss Granger?"

"Stop calling me that!" She lowered her eyes. "You don't love me anymore, do you?"

"_Hermione_, what has Potter done now?"

"Severus…"

"Just. Tell. Me."

She exhaled slowly. "He's gone to Azkaban."

"He has not."

"He has. He wants to rescue Voldemort."

"Bloody hell," he said. "Why must Potter _always_ play the hero?"

"He feels compelled to…"

"Compelled to, my ar…"

"Severus!"

"He likes to play the hero because he is an arrogant miniature of his detestable father." Severus strode to the fireplace. "He must be stopped. I hate to think of what will happen now that everything has gone to hell."

"I'm coming with you."

"If you must."

**

* * *

**

Ooh. I hadn't meant for an argument to ensue. It just came to me, that's all. Can they get past this? And what is happening at Azkaban?


	13. Obstruction

"Obstruction"

_She exhaled slowly. "He's gone to Azkaban."_

"_He has not."_

"_He has. He wants to rescue Voldemort."_

"_Bloody hell," he said. "Why must Potter always play the hero?"_

"_He feels compelled to…"_

"_Compelled to, my ar…"_

"_Severus!"_

"_He likes to play the hero because he is an arrogant miniature of his detestable father." Severus strode to the fireplace. "He must be stopped. I hate to think of what will happen now that everything has gone to hell."_

"_I'm coming with you."_

"_If you must."_

"Let me through!" Harry yelled. "C'mon, move!"

"Calm down, mate," Ron said, patting his back. "You don't have to worry now. Just forget about the prophecy. We can take it from here."

"Ron, you don't understand…"

"Course I do. Go home, Harry. Sit back, relax. Hell, you could take the week off work. You deserve it, looking after him all this time."

"You _really_ don't understand," Harry said. He was close to crying. He had to get to Voldemort! "Please, let him go. Let me just take him home."

"Back up, Potter," one of the guards said. "Let the Dementors do their job."

"_No_!"

* * *

Lord Voldemort was frightened. He sat in his cell, contemplating what he had heard. Someone had mentioned the Dementor's Kiss. Was that what awaited him? Was he going to become an empty shell of a man? Harry would never want him then.

He doesn't want you now, a little voice taunted him.

"Shut up," he said. It had been years since he'd heard a voice in his head, one which wasn't the result of Legillimancy. "I do _not _need your input. Not now, not ever."

Potter could never love you, it said. Who are you kidding? He'll leave you, just like your father left you, just like your mother left you, just like…

"_No_. Stop, please."

You don't deserve love. You never have.

"I know," he said, bending over and resting his head on his hands. "I know. But I want it. I want it so much."

Well, you're never going to get it.

* * *

"Better call Hermione," Ron told one of his fellow Aurors. "She may be with Snape now, but I reckon she'll still be smart enough to sort Harry out."

"She's gotta be brave to put up with Severus Snape."

"Yeah." They looked at Harry, who was still trying to push past the guards. They weren't moving out of the way for The-Boy-Who-Lived. "He's gone mental, hasn't he?"

"The pressure of the war must've got to him."

"Never got to me, though," Ron said, preening. "I'm the only sane one out of the three of us."

They watched as Harry looked up at the numerous cells, head swivelling back and forth.

"Voldemort!" he bellowed.

* * *

He sat up. Was that his Harry calling him?

You're just deluded, the voice said, sneering at him. And he's not 'your' Harry. He never will be.

"Be quiet. _Please_ be quiet," he moaned, leaning back against the wall. But the voice was right. Harry wasn't really calling for him. Harry… Harry would never do that.

He just didn't care enough.

"_Tom_…"

* * *

Harry stopped struggling. What had possessed him to shout at 'Tom', of all things? Everything on the island fell silent. Had Harry been paying attention to his surroundings at that moment, he would have taken his chance to run past the guards.

As it is, they snapped back to reality before he did, and started to push him backwards.

* * *

"Come on," the guard said, opening the door to the cell. Voldemort stood, and followed him to another room. There was a plain, wooden seat in the centre. He sat down, and gripped the edges of the chair. "A Dementor will be brought here soon."

He nodded, barely listening. All he could think of was that one word. That name.

_His_ name.

But… Harry would never call him that.

He wasn't coming.

**

* * *

**

Now, readers; here is the big decision. One of four things can happen in the next post, which will determine the last chapter.

**One, Voldemort is given the Kiss, and Harry, broken-hearted, either kills them both, or takes the Kiss as well.**

**Two, Voldemort is given the Kiss, and Harry just remains melancholy the rest of his life.**

**Three, Voldemort isn't given the Kiss, the love potion wears off, but he still loves Harry, and they live happily ever after.**

**Four, Voldemort isn't given the Kiss, the love potions wears off, he no longer loves Harry, and finally kills him.**

**So… pick a number, and cast your vote!**


	14. The Distraction Works

"The Distraction Works"

_Harry stopped struggling. What had possessed him to shout at 'Tom', of all things? Everything on the island fell silent. Had Harry been paying attention to his surroundings at that moment, he would have taken his chance to run past the guards._

_As it is, they snapped back to reality before he did, and started to push him backwards._

"_Come on," the guard said, opening the door to the cell. Voldemort stood, and followed him to another room. There was a plain, wooden seat in the centre. He sat down, and gripped the edges of the chair. "A Dementor will be brought here soon."_

_He nodded, barely listening. All he could think of was that one word. That name._

_His name._

_But… Harry would never call him that._

_He wasn't coming._

"Harry!" Hermione ran over to him. "What's happening?"

"They're taking him to get the Kiss now," he said, renewing his struggles. "Let me through!"

Hermione went to help him, but Severus pulled her away. She began to beat him on the chest.

"Stop that, you harlot," he said, grabbing her fists.

"Let me go, Severus! They're going to destroy him."

"If you are so damn worried, help me with a distraction." She gaped at him, and relaxed. He smirked. "That is _much_ better. Potter!" he barked. Harry turned around.

"Professor, help me get past them," he begged.

"Let's give them a show," he said to Hermione. He pulled her into his arms, and didn't even wait for her permission to dive straight into her mouth. She groaned, knees trembling, as the kiss grew more and more passionate. He walked her backwards into a wall, pressing hard against her body. Her hands were moving up and down his arms, across his shoulders, into his hair, and back down again. He grasped the back of her right thigh, and rubbed harder against her He grabbed her by the other leg, and pushed her against the stone as she wrapped herself around his body.

The guards all watched the couple move against each other, mouths hanging open. Severus ripped his lips his away from Hermione's, and began to ravish her neck. His hands sneaked up underneath her blouse. She shrieked as he grabbed her breasts. The guards all moaned, their attention on the scene before them. Harry was still as thin as a rake, although he was getting taller, and managed to slip between them unnoticed. He used the Point-Me spell to find his way upstairs.

He paused when he heard Hermione yelp again, and rolled his eyes as she started to pant her lover's name. The guards _still_ hadn't noticed that he had passed them.

* * *

Voldemort clenched the arms of the seat. It wasn't unusual to hear screams in Azkaban, although these sounded… happier than usual.

A feeling of impending doom settled over his shoulders. He shrank back. A Dementor was approaching. He trembled. How he wished Harry was there, even if it was just to see that justice was carried out. At least he would be there, and his would be the last face he could see. Not some guard; not some stranger. He just wanted Harry.

"Goodbye," he murmured, and he looked at the floor. The door opened, and he looked up. A death rattle signalled the ghastly creature that followed the guard into the room. He swallowed, and dropped his gaze again.

Suddenly, a white form burst into the room. It was a stag. It reared up, and started to force the Dementor backwards. The guard looked confused. Voldemort perked up at the sound of pounding feet and heavy breathing.

He recognised those feet.

"Harry?" he said. Sure enough, Harry ran into the room, and grasped the doorframe. With a wave of his wand, his Patronus chased the Dementor away.

"What're you doing?" the guard asked.

"Get out," Harry said. The guard hesitated. "Now! I've come to take him home. There's no need for the Kiss."

The guard glanced at Voldemort, and shrugged. "Your funeral," he muttered, and he left the room. Harry slammed the door behind him, and leant against it, looking at Voldemort.

"I love you," he said.

Something seemed to seep out—an overwhelming feeling of affection left him. He frowned, sitting forward. He knew that Potter was speaking, but he wasn't listening. He just clenched his hands as he remembered. The love potion. The damn love potion. That was what had happened. Salazar, he'd been behaving like a lovesick fool around Harry Bloody Potter! How could he have allowed that?

And… Potter loved him back.

_Harry loved him_.

"Why?" he said, looking up. "Why love me?"

"Because I've seen what you can be," Harry said.

"It's gone. The feeling… is gone."

"What feeling?"

"I… I don't love you." Harry's eyes widened. "I'm not in love with you, Po… Harry. I'm not in love with you."

"But… but why not?"

"The love potion doesn't affect me anymore."

"Oh. You remember that." Voldemort nodded. Harry walked forward, and knelt beside him. "You can't love me back, can you."

"I don't know." He looked confused. "No one's ever loved me before. Not really. Not in a true, innocent way. I'm… quite frankly, I am baffled that anyone could. I remember what a monster I was."

"You don't want to be that monster?" Harry was surprised. "But if the love potion has… has worn off…"

"I think that the time away from what I was doing has changed me. But love?" He shook his head. "I don't know."

Harry sighed. "It doesn't matter. You can still stay with me if you like. Anywhere's better than Azkaban, right?"

Voldemort chuckled, and nodded. He tilted his head as he looked down at Harry. "Do not dismiss the idea, though. Given time," he touched Harry's cheek, scooping up the single tear, "I could."

"You could?"

"I could." He smiled. "I will."

**

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**

Aw! Only one chapter left. It'll be an epilogue, so it'll probably be short.

**Credit must be given to Lauressa, who came up with the idea of Voldemort being baffled that someone's in love with him. I know, as soon as Harry worked out that he loved him, it should have made the potion wear off. But he had to tell Voldemort that he did. As you saw.**

**Honestly, I can (kind of) describe a person being in love, but that love leaving them because a potion has worn off? It was… odd.**

**Please review!**

**PLEASE NOTE: SheriLovingLecter has had one of her Hannibal Lecter stories copied by another writer, who goes by the name Serenity of the Sound. The original story is called "Silent Reception"; the other is "Silence". As I said to SheriLovingLecter, I don't know how people think they can get away with it. I mean, if you can't come up with your own, original stories, why copy those of other people?**

**For Snanger fans, SheriLovingLecter is the author of another of my favourite stories, "Vixen".**


	15. The Bit at the End

"The Bit at the End"

"_I think that the time away from what I was doing has changed me. But love?" He shook his head. "I don't know."_

_Harry sighed. "It doesn't matter. You can still stay with me if you like. Anywhere's better than Azkaban, right?"_

_Voldemort chuckled, and nodded. He tilted his head as he looked down at Harry. "Do not dismiss the idea, though. Given time," he touched Harry's cheek, scooping up the single tear, "I could."_

"_You could?"_

"_I could." He smiled. "I will."_

"Why?" he asked. "Why me?"

"Don't tilt your head down. Just stand still!"

Tom sighed. "But best man? Why was _I_ made best man?"

"You know why," Harry said. He finished tying the bow, and pulled back. "Now you can fidget to your heart's content."

"Thank you," he said, examining Harry's handiwork. "You were right. I hate to admit it, but this looks better done by hand than by magic."

"That's not the only thing that's done better by hand."

"…Are you propositioning me?"

"No." Harry stood on tip-toe, and kissed him quickly. "But if you're very lucky, you might get a dance with me later."

"Cheeky devil," Tom muttered. He looked down at his best man's notes. "Ah, if only Lucius knew what he was giving up when he tried to bankrupt Severus' potions business. Playing such an important role. Hmm. I almost wish that he hadn't…"

"Now, now," Harry said. "Aren't you used to making speeches?"

"_Hmph_. I used to be."

"No one would dare make fun of you."

"It's been a year! _One year_ since you got me out of Azkaban. Why can't people forget? I changed my name back to Tom Riddle, for Salazar's sake!" he said.

"Hey," Harry said, grabbing his arms. "Listen to me. It's _only_ a year. One little year. You make it sound like five years, or ten."

"And it's taken all this time for Severus to propose to Hermione," he said. He breathed slowly, deeply, and looked at Harry. "Thank you. You make me feel calm."

"Good. Now, come on, best man."

Draco poked his head into the room. "I volunteered to check on you two, since you were taking so long. No one else was brave enough. So much for Gryffindor courage, eh?"

"How does Hermione look?" Harry asked. Tom followed him from the room.

"Ginny says she looks perfect," he replied. "Come on. Don't want to be late, do you?"

"Merlin forbid," Tom said.

Severus and Hermione's business had grown so quickly that they had been able to afford to buy a manor. The wedding was taking place in their one-acre garden, at the end where no valuable potions ingredients were being grown. Only close friends and family had been invited.

Despite the fact she had been living with her lover for more than a year, Hermione had insisted on wearing white. Only she, Severus, and Harry knew that she was almost two months pregnant.

* * *

Tom was lucky. He and Harry had yet to announce themselves officially as a couple, though their nearest and dearest all suspected, and the Snapes knew. So it didn't have as much impact as Harry had thought it would when he invited Tom to dance.

"Here I was, worried that I would be a wallflower," he said wryly. Harry laughed.

"I love you," he said. He said it at least once a week, always hopeful. And today…

"I love you, too."

He looked up, surprised. "T-that's the first time you've said that since the…"

"Love potion. I know."

He blushed, and looked down as they danced. Tom pulled him closer, and Harry rested his head on his shoulder. He smiled. Sometimes he felt guilty about loving the man who had ruined his life. Was it a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome? Perhaps, even though he had been the jailer, and not the prisoner. But as long as he felt like this, he didn't care what caused the end result.

Thank Merlin for love potions, he thought.

THE END

**

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**

The madness has come to an end! Who'd a thunk it?

**Yes, this was outrageously AU and OOC. I did warn everyone.**


End file.
